Page 10 of Don't Let Me Go
Except Jackson doesn’t seem dangerous. Oddly familiar, yes. But dangerous? The more time I spend with him, the harder it gets tojustify my initial impression that he’s just another sports-bro who’s hell-bent on ruining my life. If I’m honest, I don’t knowwhathe is, aside from Duy’s new neighbor.
I guess what I’m saying is the jury’s still out on Jackson Haines.
“So,are you and Duy, like, a couple?” he asks.
“Duy?” I laugh, surprised by his question. “No, not at all. They’re like my sibling. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m not their type. Duy’s only into guys with six-packs and pecs. You know, guys who could be Greek gods or underwear models. Guys like you.”
Guys likeyou?Did I hit my fucking head when I fainted? Why would I say that out loud?
Jackson lets out a snort of laughter, and I feel my entire face burn.
“A Greek god or an underwear model, huh?”
“I didn’t mean youspecifically,” I backtrack. “I meant someonelikeyou.”
“Like me?”
“Sporty. Athletic. You know what I mean. Don’t act like this is the first time someone has pointed out that you’re—”
“That I’m what?”
“Annoying, Jackson. You’re very,veryannoying.”
Jackson laughs, and his laughter is so open and good-natured, it makes me feel warm all over. Then, just as suddenly, Jackson stops and stares down guiltily at his Nikes, as if he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to laugh.
Odd. He did the same thing earlier when he mentioned that he used to play football at his old school, and Duy joked that the only sports they like to watch is the volleyball sequence inTop Gun. Jackson laughed, then immediately stopped himself.
Now he’s done it again. He keeps walking back his happiness. Like he doesn’t trust it. Or like he doesn’t think he deserves it.
“So?.?.?.?Duy said you live with your aunt?” I ask, hoping to ease his awkwardness with a change of topic.
Jackson nods. “Yeah. I moved in with my aunt about a week ago.”
“But your parents are still in Tallahassee?”
“Yep.”
“How come they didn’t move to Orlando with you? Or are they planning to move down later this summer?”
Jackson shrugs nonchalantly, but avoids my eyes. “It’s kind of up in the air at the moment.”
“What does that mean?”
“My dad’s a doctor. Physical medicine and rehab. He works a lot with Florida State, so it’s not exactly convenient for him to pack up and move his practice. Besides, I’ll only be here for a year before I head off to college, so it doesn’t really make sense for him and my mom to move just for my sake, you know?”
“Sure,” I concede. “But then why didyoumove here?”
Another shrug. “Better schools.”
“Better schools?” I scoff. “Here?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you mean, like, better for football?”
Jackson doesn’t answer. He finishes off his soda and effortlessly tosses the cup into a nearby trash can. I’m not sure if I should repeat my question or let the subject drop. But before I can decide, the matter becomes moot. A raucous cackling splits the air, and when I turn to look, I see the Olympus football team bounding down the thoroughfare like a pack of overcaffeinated hyenas.
“Crap,” I growl under my breath. If the Thunderbolts spot me, they’re going to say something. Because theyalwayssay something. And I’m really not in the mood for some classic schoolyard bullying on my first week of summer break.
